“If either of you are late, I’ll never let you forget it,” she said, then darted down an aisle of dresses.
“Why am I really outside?” I asked once she was gone.
“For an afternoon away from the hotel,” he repeated. “I thought about what you had said in that godforsaken suite yesterday. And, well, getting outside in the fresh air is the only thing that keeps me sane inside that place.”
My eyes grew. “You mean, you planned all of this because I was upset?”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s just for a couple of hours.”
I nodded, too stunned to do anything but walk silently beside him.
He led me down a blue cobbled street lined with stationery merchants selling floral paper and wax seals. The heat was relentless. I stopped at a fountain to splash some water against my neck and peel off the pink jacket.
Bel eyed the jacket. “Is that yours?”
“No. Béatrice dug it up. Bright pink isn’t exactly my favorite color.” I ran a hand across the sleeve.
“What is it?” he asked.
“My sister loved pink, the brighter the better. She always wanted to stand out. But I never liked the attention much.” Bel watched me, a small smile softening his eyes. For the first time in weeks, I let myself smile back. “Once, my mother forced me to wear some dresses a shade brighter than this. Never again.”
Bel propped himself against the fountain and faced the sky. Sunlight lit up his features. I tried not to stare, but he was breathtaking. “Tell me about the dresses.”
Oh god. They were embarrassing enough to think about, let alone speak of. “They’re . . . not very interesting.”
“They are to me.” He squinted up at me. “I like to hear about your memories.”
“You do?”
He nodded, and my heart ached for him.
I looked down so I didn’t have to meet his eyes. “One year our mother misordered fabric for Zosa’s winter dress and a huge bolt of peony pink muslin arrived at our door. It took all three of us to get it inside. There was no way Maman needed more than a fraction of it for Zosa. Unfortunately, I’d gone through a growth spurt and all the dresses in my closet barely covered my calves, so Maman decided to use the material to make me four more.” I cringed at the memory. “They were so bright they practically glowed. With enormous ruffles.”
“I can picture it perfectly.”
“Stop it. I wanted to burn them all.”
“But you wore them.”
I groaned. “Yes. Maman hid my other dresses so I was forced to wear them or run around naked. People gawked at me wherever we went. I couldn’t stand the attention. I tried to stuff myself at every meal in hopes that I would outgrow the dreadful things as quickly as possible.”
“Did you?”
I hid my face in my hands. “Three years later.”
Bel burst out laughing. I scooped water from the fountain and splashed his face.
“Sometimes you astound me with your maturity,” he said, and then flung a handful toward me. I shrieked as it splashed against my neck, soaking my collar. His gaze dropped to my wet neck, then lower. He jerked his eyes up. “We should keep walking.”
Right.
I buttoned the pink jacket over my wet dress. Four blocks later Bel stopped in front of an eatery with a plethora of flower baskets and cured meats hanging in the windows. A Verdanniere sign on the door read WELCOME TO CAFé MARGOT.
“Are we close to Verdanne?” I asked.
“We’re on a small island a few days’ boat ride north of the continent. But still close enough to get the occasional expat.” Bel opened the door. “After you.”
“You want to dine?”
“Béatrice only agreed to help me on the condition that I feed you properly.”
“Of course she would say that.”
I glanced down the busy street. It would be easy for the twins to walk by. At least the café front was somewhat obscured.
We walked inside to a narrow restaurant covered with knickknacks. A beaded dress was pinned to one wall along with theatrical ephemera: multicolored show tickets, sequined headbands, playbills, even an ornate Verdanniere lavatory sign. An olive-skinned boy stacked a teetering display of quiches behind a counter, while a light-skinned old woman played an upright piano.
“Nice little restaurant,” Bel called out to the woman.
“You speak my language,” she said in perfect Verdanniere. “Sit, sit. Let me bring out some food.” She shooed us to a table then disappeared through double doors in back.